


Commes des Enfants

by pricingham



Series: d'amour ou d'amitié [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Best Friends, Canon Era, Canon Gay Character, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jewish Character, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oblivious, Oblivious Gaston (Disney), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Pre-War, War, hes dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pricingham/pseuds/pricingham
Summary: A fic about Gaston and LeFou's friendship and dynamic over the years.Every two chapters equal one year.The additional tags are more about the whole series and not about this part in particular. (First time writing a series, yikes!)





	1. 13

Gaston let out a dramatic cry, falling to the ground. “You have _betrayed_ me!”

Tom laughed. “That’s what you get for killing my sister!”

Gaston stifled laughter and twisted around, letting out exaggerated groans.

“Just die already!,” Stanley said, poking him with his “sword”, a blunt stick Gaston had given him.

Gaston stuck his tongue out at him before dying with a grunted “Avenge me, Richard!”.

“Get off the floor, Gaston!,” a woman called from the fountain.

Gaston grumbled and did as told, brushing the dirt off his shirt. “Yes, maman.”

Dick gasped dramatically. “He lives!”

Tom frowned before realizing what he meant. “What _are_ you?! Some kind of monster?!”

“I’m a vampire!” he said before flashing his canines in a sharp grin.

Stanley hummed and put his arms around Dick’s and Tom's necks. “I say we need something else other than these swords to kill this beast.”

Dick ran to Gaston and held him back as he tried to reach for his friends. “You'll regret killing me, you fools!”

Stanley bent down to pick up a smaller, thicker stick than the one he was holding. A child around their age carrying some dirty laundry tripped over him and fell on the floor. “Oh, shit. I'm sorry.”

The boy lied down whimpering, holding his arm. Tom let Gaston go. He went to pick the relatively shorter boy up. “It's alright,” Gaston told him when he instinctively withdrew. “I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not like Stanley over there.”

“Ha, ha,” Stanley said dryly.

Gaston got him to his feet, holding his hurt arm with care. “Did you get hurt here?”

The boy nodded, staring at him with unfallen tears in his eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh, he speaks,” said Tom.

The boy opened his mouth but immediately shut it after Tom’s comment.

“It's alright, you can talk,” Gaston assured him with a small laugh. He rolled his shirt off to inspect the injury. “Oh, you just scraped your elbow, it's nothing. You just need to clean it up.”

The boy nodded and picked up the laundry with the four boys’ help. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Gaston watched as he walked to the fountain.

“Gaston,” Dick called in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah?”

“Let's go back to playing, come on.”

Gaston frowned and bit his lip. “Wait a second.” He walked to the boy and sat next to him. “I'm Gaston.”

He jumped and looked at Gaston with wide eyes. “Hi.”

“What's your name?”

“...LeFou,” he murmured.

“That's cute.”

“...Thank you,” he said with a small smile, blushing.

“Do you want to play with us?”

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to play with us,” Gaston repeated with a smile. “You're a kid, you should be playing not doing laundry.”

“But I don't have anyone else who will.”

Gaston hummed, frowning. He gasped. “I know! Maman!”

His mother stopped gossiping with the lady beside her and turned to him. “What is it?”

“Can you do my new friend's dirty laundry so he can come play? _Please_?!”

She sighed. “Sure.”

Gaston grinned at LeFou. “All done!”

“Oh, no. It's okay, really. I can—”

“Nonsense! Come now.” He lead him to his friend group. Stanley, Dick and Tom all stared at him confused. “Okay, so you already know Stanley and Tom,” he said, holding LeFou's wrist. “That's Dick.”

“Hey, huh…”

“His name's LeFou,” Gaston said.

“LeFou?” Dick asked.

“I don't think you're in any place to comment, _Dick_.”

Dick stared at Stanley. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Tom laughed. “Hi, LeFou.”

“Oh, huh, hey.”

“Guys, break it off!” Gaston yelled at Dick and Stanley. Once Dick stopped nearly strangling Stanley, Gaston continued. “Alright, so! In this game, Tom, Dick and me were a group that fought evil people like Stanley but then I killed Tom's sister. So, he killed me but turns out I'm a vampire!”

“Because his mother wouldn't let him die,” Stanley said, mocking.

“Shut up! Being a vampire is better than being dead, anyway… What do you want to be, LeFou?”

“Vampire?” he said tentatively.

Gaston grinned. “Nice! We can be a duo of vampires that kills humans!”

“And you're working for me!” Stanley said.

“ _With_ you,” Gaston corrected, finally letting LeFou's wrist go. “Gaston works for no one.”

LeFou laughed.

“Oh, you think that's funny, do you?!”

“No, sir!” LeFou said, shaking his head.

Gaston smiled at him and pushed him lightly. “I'm teasing.”

“Alright, where were we?” Dick said.

“Tom was holding me back before I could tear your neck apart.”

“Oh, right.”

Tom moved to restrain Gaston as he went back to his vampire persona.

“Come on, Dick, kill him!”

“I don't have any weapons,” Dick complained.

Gaston growled. “You'll see! My friend is going to come save me!”

LeFou let out a small “oh” and jumped into action, pushing Tom off Gaston gently. “Get off my friend!”

Gaston smiled at him. “You're doing great,” he whispered. “We need to turn them now, LeFou!”

“Turn them…?”

“You know, into vampires.”

“Oh! We bite them, yes?”

Gaston nodded. “Less talking more fighting,” Stanley called from the floor.

“We don’t take orders from you! ...And why are you on the floor?”

“Oh, Tom cut my leg off.”

“He _what_?!" LeFou said, alarmed.

“No, no! Just as a game,” Gaston calmed him down.

“Oh! Oh.”

Gaston laughed. “It’s okay. No one actually gets hurt here.”

“Except when Dick chipped his teeth,” Tom said. “Show ‘im.”

Dick grimaced and pointed at his front teeth. Between them an arch was formed. “Gaston kicked me in the face.”

“I did _not_. We were wrestling and I accidentally knocked him over and he hit his teeth on a rock.”

“...I’m never wrestling with you,” LeFou said.

“He bites a lot,” Stanley told him. He pulled his sleeve off and showed off a small bite mark on his forearm to LeFou. “Those fangs are little beasts.”

“Just like Gaston himself,” Tom said with a snort.

“I am _not_ a beast,” Gaston protested. “I’m pretty!”

LeFou put his hands to his mouth to stifle laughter.

“See? LeFou agrees.”

“Only because he fancies you,” Stanley said.

Gaston scoffed and pushed his friend. “LeFou doesn't fancy me. He's barely known me!”

“Well, I've seen him stare at us playing before,” he argued. “ _Especially_ at you, monsieur.”

“ _Pfft_. It's not like that can happen. LeFou's a boy.”

Said boy stammered by Gaston’s side, cheeks flaring. “Hum, Gaston.”

“You agree with me, don't you?”

LeFou didn't say anything.

“Boys can fancy boys!” Stanley replied.

“Oh, what? You fancy me too, is that it?” Gaston joked.

“No! But LeFou does.”

“It's not possible!”

“Gaston!” his mother called.

“ _What_?!”

“Don't yell at me, young man! Come here!”

“Thanks a lot, Stanley,” Gaston murmured before turning back. He walked away and sat by his mother. “Sorry.”

“I want you to be quieter, alright?”

“Okay,” he sighed. “May I go now?”

She looked at him and Gaston looked down. He didn't exactly like looking his mother in the eye. They were big and very dark, almost black, and looked like they could penetrate his soul. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

She nodded and kissed his head. “You can go now.”

Once he got back to his friends, and before he could open his mouth and talk, Stanley apologized for whatever potential trouble he got him on.

“It's alright. And I'm sorry I yelled.”

“Also, LeFou,” Stanley said, “sorry for telling everyone you like Gaston.”

“Well, I… I don't, so…”

Gaston blinked at him in shock. “You don't like me?”

“Wh— as a friend! I like you as a friend.”

“Oh!” Gaston grinned. “You too!”

Dick stepped in. “So, do we welcome Monsieur LeFou to the group?”

“I say we do,” Tom answered with a firm nod. “Stanley?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“And we know Gaston wants it so… let us begin.”

They all sat down in a circle, Gaston pulling LeFou down with him. “You sit in the middle,” he told him. LeFou nodded and did so, facing Gaston. “Close your eyes.” The four of them except for LeFou held hands. “We,” began Gaston, “Gaston…”

“Tom.”

“Dick.”

“Stanley.”

“Welcome you…” He whispered, “say your name.”

“Oh! LeFou.”

“To our group!”

They all clapped and LeFou opened his eyes with a smile.

“Now, we get a knife and cut our hands,” Gaston told him, “to make sure you'll _always_ be with us.”

Tom laughed. “Don't scare him! He's just joking,” he reassured LeFou.

He nodded and smiled. “I mean, I wouldn't mind.”

“That's brave,” Dick said. He let out a groan when his mother called him. “I have to go home, see you.”

“I'm goin’ with him,” Tom said. “See you tomorrow, boys.”

“Bye.” Gaston turned to Stanley and LeFou and sighed. “What do you wanna do?”

LeFou shrugged. Stanley simply got up after a glance at the fountain.

“Oh, come on, are you leaving too?”

“Yep,” he said, eyes still on the fountain. “My sister needs help with all the clothes,” he explained giving Gaston an apologetic smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye.”

LeFou waved goodbye and moved closer to Gaston, who smiled at him.

“Do you want to play sword fights?” Gaston asked.

LeFou nodded. “Yeah! I… don't know how to play, though.”

Gaston smiled again and got up, helping LeFou doing the same after. “It’s easy. Just grab your sword!” he said, waving his hand to some sticks on the ground.

LeFou hummed thoughtfully and picked a medium size one. Gaston picked up his usual sword and assumed the position of combat. LeFou imitated him.

“Now, we have to defend ourselves and all that.”

“Alright, okay.”

Gaston attacked first and LeFou defended himself quickly. “Very good!”

They played for quite some time — Gaston said he was winning 10 to 4 and LeFou was too sweet to correct him. Eventually LeFou fell on the ground with a huff. “You've defeated me!” he called in an exaggerated groan.

Gaston laughed and pulled LeFou up. He eyed the sky; the sun began to set. “I guess it's time you go home,” he said.

LeFou pouted slightly. “Can we play tomorrow again?”

“Of course!” Gaston replied with a grin. They both let their swords fall to the ground, and LeFou followed Gaston to his mother.

“Here you are. Hum…”

“LeFou,” he said, realizing she didn't yet know his name.

“Well, LeFou, I'm done with your laundry.” She handed him the basket with his now neatly folded, clean laundry.

LeFou smiled. “I can't thank you enough, mademoiselle.”

She blinked at him and laughed softly. “Madame.”

“Oh! Right, right.” He turned on his heels and walked away, shouting a “It was nice to meet you, Gaston!” over his shoulder.

Gaston grinned. “You too! See you tomorrow!”

“Sure!”

Gaston's mother smiled and got up. “You have to help me with the clothes.”

Gaston nodded and did so.

 

Home was empty and a bit dim. Gaston's mother set down her laundry basket on the table and started walking around to light some candles. Gaston put his on the ground and lied down on the sofa.

“Your father's coming back from a hunting trip.”

Gaston hummed, closing his eyes. He knew what it meant. Either he'd arrive a happy man, glad with the hunting, or an angry one, upset he only managed to catch a few rabbits. And he'd get angrier then, of course, once his wife reminded him that they couldn't eat rabbit.

He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes there were knocks at the door.

“Gaston, mind getting that?” his mother called from the kitchen.

Gaston did just that, praying that his father had returned in a good mood.

His prayers were not answered.

Gaston’s father nearly threw him against the wall when he made his way in.

“Good evening, Pierre,” his mother greeted.

“Don't talk to me, Sophie!” he replied angrily, walking down to the cellar. Gaston shrunk instinctively, although he wasn't even close to his father.

He was in for a good night.


	2. 13

Gaston couldn't breathe when he got to the river. His lungs were on fire and so were his legs. He gasped for air, falling on the grass.

His father had broken a plate during a fight with his mother and it had been too much for Gaston, so he ran. But of course he got bruised by that wreck of a man on his way out.

He felt bad, leaving his mother alone with that… beast. But he had to do it. He was sure she understood.

After a good minutes of crying silently and catching his breath, all while gripping at grass, Gaston's stomach rumbled.

He cursed himself for not having eaten the charred deer meat on his plate. His mouth watered at the memory of it alongside those golden roasted potatoes. Gaston sighed and tied his hair back, allowing the skin on the back of his neck to breathe.

“Gaston?”

He jumped, almost falling over. He turned around, wide eyed. His fear faded when he recognized the silhouette. “LeFou?”

“Hi,” he stammered. “I wasn't… following you or anything. I just saw you run past my house and I wanted to check on you.”

Gaston smiled. His empty stomach interrupted the moment. “Oh, sorry. I haven't had dinner yet.”

LeFou frowned. “I have some leftovers. I'm sure my Nana wouldn't mind me sharing.”

“Wh— no, LeFou, it's fine.”

“Gaston, you sound positively starving. Look like it, too.”

Gaston opened his mouth to protest, but the rumbling of his stomach was quicker than his words.

“Stay here,” LeFou told him with a smile.

Gaston sighed and pulled his knees to his chest, watching the river stream. He could see the occasional fish. The frogs croaked close to him and Gaston closed his eyes. He was absolutely exhausted.

“Gaston?”

He opened his eyes and rubbed them. They widened when he saw the bowl of food LeFou brought with him.

“It's chicken and some potatoes, and my Nana insisted on putting a bit of rabbit too.”

“Oh, I can't eat rabbit,” he said, picking up a chicken leg.

“Why's that?” LeFou asked, putting the bowl between him and Gaston.

He shrugged. “My mom said so.”

“Is it bad for you?”

Gaston ripped some of the meat with his teeth and shook his head. “It's, huh, a religious thing.”

LeFou let out an “Oh” but Gaston felt like he didn't really understand.

He didn't really want to explain. Sure, his family didn't get hunt down but people still talked about them behind their backs and side eyed them occasionally, especially when his mother passed by everyone as they walked into church. His father didn't get half of it, except from the butcher who paid him definitely less than he deserved because he forgot to put away those “weird candles” that one Christmas. Gaston let out a sigh once he was done with his chicken leg. “We're Jewish,” he mumbled out.

“Sorry?”

Gaston bit at the inside of his lip. “We're Jewish,” he repeated, louder.

“Oh!”

“Yeah. I had my Bar Mitzvah not long ago. It was, like, right after my birthday.”

“I wish I could have gone!”

Gaston smiled at him and got a potato out of the bowl. “The rest of the group went, except for Stanley. His mother doesn't really like us.”

“That's stupid.”

Gaston laughed. “I suppose it is,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed and stared at LeFou. “You look Jewish too.”

“I do?”

Gaston nodded, moving to sink his teeth into a chicken breast. “Mainly your hair.”

LeFou let out an “Oh!” and nodded. “...I do like you. As, as a friend.”

Gaston laughed. “I like you too.” He frowned when LeFou frowned as well. “What?”

“You're, huh, bruised. Here,” he said, pointing to the corner of his eye.

Gaston blinked at him. “It's nothing.”

“It looks kind of bad.”

“Trust me, it's nothing.” That had come off too aggressive. He couldn't help it, his heart was pounding and his breath was short. He couldn't tell LeFou.

“...Okay. Just… If you need anything, a place to stay over or food or, just _anything_. You can ask me.”

Gaston threw the chicken bone to the river. “Thank you,” he said in a murmur, looking over at LeFou with a small smile. It vanished and Gaston jumped when he heard his name being called. “Shit. Go.”

“What?”

“Go! That's my father, he can't see you, alright? Just leave!”

LeFou bit at his bottom lip and let out a stressed noise before wrapping an hand around Gaston's arm. “Come with me,” he said. “You can stay at my place.”

Gaston glanced at the soft hand on his arm and then over his shoulder.

“ _Gaston_!” He winced and looked back at LeFou.

“Okay,” he whispered.

LeFou nodded and pulled Gaston close. “My house is less than a minute away from here,” he told him. “Just follow me.”

As much as Gaston disliked being told what to do, he did what LeFou asked of him.

His house wasn't as big as Gaston's but definitely wasn't small either; very cosy. LeFou's grandmother sat by the fireplace, knitting something. Gaston almost broke into tears when LeFou closed the door behind them. “You're safe here,” LeFou assured him. “Nana, this is Gaston.”

His grandmother squinted and adjusted her glasses before saying, “Ah, yes. LeGume, yes?” she asked, in the same accent as LeFou's.

“Yes, madame.”

She nodded absently and went back to her knitting. “I knew your grandfather, dearie.”

Gaston blinked at her. “You did?”

“Mhm. Jules LeGume… Quite the heartbreaker in my time.”

Gaston smiled. “How was he like? Back then?”

“Very much like your father. None of the drinking though, oh no. Monsieur Jules was very careful about his health.”

“Is it true he came from Paris?” Gaston asked as he sat down in front of the old woman. LeFou followed suit, but got them both a chair each.

“Oh, no. He was from Villeneuve, born and raised. Your great-grandfather was from Paris, though. Big aristocratic family, the LeGumes.”

Gaston grinned. “Really? Was he rich?”

“Yes, yes. I think your father still holds some of it.”

“...Nana, can Gaston sleep in my bedroom?”

“Hm? Oh, yes.”

LeFou smiled at Gaston, who fought back tears. He yawned and LeFou asked him if he wanted to go to bed. Gaston nodded in reply and followed LeFou upstairs. “That's my bed,” he said, pointing at a king sized bed that stood in the middle of the room. “My parents used to sleep there but… Well, they're not…” He shook his head and sighed. Then smiled at Gaston. “You can use one of my nightgowns.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, starting to undress. LeFou's nightgown was a bit too large for Gaston, but he found it comfortable nevertheless. And, as soon as he lay his head on that pillow, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gaston is mixed ashkie & sephardic bc tht hair is sephardic im telling yall also lefous like ethnically jewish but his fam converted


	3. 14

It was a pleasant, warm Fall afternoon. The schoolboys played outside, stepping on leaves and jumping on the piles of orange and brown leaves Monsieur Gil had had so much work piling up. Gaston watched them with a bored expression on his face, chin resting on one hand, his elbow on the window’s ledge. He had gone to school once but he had asked his father to get him out because he found it too boring. It's not like he'd need any of it for his future life as a hunter.

Gaston frowned as a few of the boys pushed another to the ground. He would have let it slide as playful but the laughter coming from them was anything but. So, he got up and ran to the playground.

“Hey!”

“Oh, great,” one of the boys grumbled. “If it isn't Monsieur Savior of the Beaten and the Damned?”

“Shut up, Luc,” Gaston growled. He helped the boy they had pushed up and his anger turned into rage in a blink of an eye. It was LeFou. And he looked beyond embarrassed. “Did they—”

“Gaston, it's okay,” he murmured, wiping off the dust from his uniform.

“Which one of you _idiots_ had the idea of hurting my friend?” he asked, hands tightened into fists.

Luc and his gang didn't say a word. They knew better than talk too much and face Gaston's rage. They had seen it before — someone had hurt Stanley and Gaston broke their nose — and were not interested in experiencing it first hand.

“Answer me, you cowards!”

The boy by Luc’s left pointed at him discreetly.

“Of course… Tell me, Luc, do you prefer your nose or your eye?” Gaston asked with a faux smile; his lip twitched in anger.

“...Nose.”

“Then we'll start with that,” Gaston announced. Before any of the boys could stop him Gaston had already punched Luc in the nose, making it bleed, and was currently hitting him everywhere in his face. Uncontrolled anger was dangerous. Even more so with Gaston, who had been in very familiar terms with violence ever since he was a young child. He knew where to hit to make it hurt the most, he knew exactly what would break with one swing of his fist. Luc was crying by now, begging Gaston to stop. “You should have thought about it before you hurt him!” He moved to punch him again but a strong hand yanked at his arm and threw him back on the ground.

The headmaster. “You leave my school and yet you assault my students.”

“He hurt LeFou! I was just bringing him to justice,” Gaston replied, getting up on his feet. He wiped his bloodied knuckles to his breeches, letting the blood pour out of his nose and stain his shirt — Luc had managed to fight back for a while.

“Let's see if that's true. LeFou.”

“Yeah?” he murmured. Gaston glanced at him. His eyes were wide and his cheeks slightly flushed. There was a bruise down by his mouth and his lip was swollen.

“Did Luc hurt you?”

LeFou stammered. He glanced between Luc, beaten face and bloodied lips and all, and Gaston, bloody nose and black eye and bruised and split open knuckles. Gaston smiled at him. “Yes,” he stuttered. “Yes, he did,” he repeated louder.

Gaston smirked at the headmaster. “There you have it. If I were you, and I'm not because I know right from wrong, I'd punish him.”

LeFou stifled laughter and Gaston walked up to him, ignoring the immensely dirty look the headmaster gave him. “Let’s head over to my house,” he told him. LeFou nodded and followed him, hand clutching Gaston's sleeve.

Once inside, Gaston told LeFou to wait on the couch for him and went upstairs to get a small box full of things his mother used when he got hurt. He sat by LeFou and opened the box.

“Now,” he started, “I think the only thing here for you is this rag. It's cold, it helps the pain go away,” he told LeFou as he handed him a small blue kerchief stained with blood. LeFou turned it around to a non-bloodied part and put it to his lip.

“Thank you,” he said, as Gaston shuffled through the containings of the box.

“It's nothing.”

“No, I mean about… fighting that boy. No one has ever done that for me. They usually just let it happen.”

Gaston smiled at him. “Well, you're my best friend. I always protect my friends.” He grabbed a crumpled up handkerchief, then walked into the kitchen to get a bowl of water. He finally sat down on the ground, still next to LeFou.

“You look like you know about fighting a lot.”

Gaston didn't say anything for a while, too busy cleaning his lips, nose and chin. He grinned at his reflection in the red tinted water and finally turned to LeFou. “I can't… hold my anger in. I'm like my father in that aspect, when I'm angry I have to let it all out,” he explained as he moved to wipe his knuckles. He hissed and LeFou sat down next to him. He took hold of the handkerchief and began taking care of Gaston’s wounds. “And so I've always gotten myself into a lot of fights. Always violent ones because I can't control it.”

LeFou hummed and Gaston smiled. He had gotten that from him. Then LeFou looked up and Gaston’s smile faded away little by little, as his eyes met _those_ eyes. So big and soft and warm and Gaston could feel his heart race and cheeks burning and— was that normal? Feeling like your best friend was your whole world?

It was, it had to be, else LeFou's reaction to their hands touching and eyes meeting wouldn't have been the exact same. Yeah. It was normal. They were just really close friends.

LeFou smiled at him and Gaston smiled back nervously before looking down at his hands. Alright, so maybe he had been wrong a year ago. Maybe boys _could_ fancy boys.

But that wasn't the case, it couldn't be. Gaston didn't fancy LeFou, he didn't fancy anyone. People fancied _him_.

He had been so absorbed in this thoughts he hadn't even noticed LeFou starting to wrap something around his hand. How could he when he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and his hands were trembling and he had that nervous feeling in his stomach?

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yes, yeah. I'm… fine,” he said, trying to mask the fact he had broken into a light sweat. LeFou's hands were just so soft and his fingers were so gentle and Gaston wasn't used to it, yeah that was it. No awkward feelings, Gaston had just had a tough childhood. “LeFou?”

“Yes?”

Christ, again with those eyes. Gaston blinked and wet his lips. “We'll be friends forever, right?”

LeFou grinned widely and nodded. “Yeah! Forever and ever.”

Gaston smiled. His heart still felt like it was about to burst out of his chest but at least his hands had stopped shaking. And although his hands hurt, a _lot_ , Gaston would do it all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't help but slide in a mcr ref i'm too emo


	4. 14

Gaston very much disliked Winter. It was too damn cold and he hated the amount of layers he had to put on to go out. And he hated even more so the dirty looks people gave him because his mother put their menorah up by the window.

That day he had decided to stay home, let his friends come by if they wanted to play. He sat by the fireplace, spinning a dreidel absentmindedly. When his grandfather was alive they played it together. He seemed to have been the only one that had kept him company in cold days like those — his mother would be busy working at the tavern and his father with his hunting trips.

Gaston sighed dramatically and let himself fall on the floor, the dreidel falling with him.

“I wish LeFou was here,” he told the menorah. If only it could talk back. He sighed again, now mixing some groans in. Eventually, he gave up. If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed must come to the mountain. So Gaston put on a leather jacket his father had offered him the past year — outside leather and inside real wolf fur — and a cloak made from the same material. He opened the door only to be met with a freezing breeze. He closed his jacket and pulled the hood up.

Snow filled the streets but that and the drizzle didn't stop people from going about with their daily lives. Women by the fountain tried to break the ice so they could wash their clothes and men everywhere walked down to Gaston’s father’s tavern, leaving their children by the fountain in front of it. Five children, all in proper winter clothing, built a strangely looking snowman.

“Hello,” he greeted as he walked up to them.

LeFou was the first to stop his work and greet Gaston with a smile and a hyped “Gaston, hi!”

Gaston felt his cheeks heat up but ignored it and waved at him. “What are you doing?”

“We're building a snowman,” Stanley told him as he rolled up said snowman's head.

“Oh! That's… nice.”

“I still think the bottom ball has to be taller,” Tom said, hands to his hips and head cocked to the side as he examined the last snowball.

“Well, I think it looks perfect,” Dick retorted. The fifth boy nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Robert.”

Gaston sighed and decided to help, although he didn't own gloves yet and his fingers turned red and numb after a while.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Tom?,” Robert asked as he smoothed down the back of the snowman.

Tom, who was busy with the face, hummed. “Not sure. I think I'll work at the tavern like my father.”

“That's a good choice of living,” Dick replied as he kneeled down.

“What about you, Robert?”

“Oh, I want to be the village’s priest.”

Gaston eyed the boy. He felt like he could do better than priesthood. “Have you ever thought of building a library?,” he asked. “You're always reading.”

“Oh, I'm thinking of turning the vestry of the church into a small library! Just a few dozen books.”

“The only thing Gaston knows by dozens are eggs,” Stanley joked as he got up.

Gaston rolled his eyes with a smile and took a step back. He put his hands to his pockets and sighed. They were so warm.

“And you, Gaston?,” Dick asked.

Gaston shrugged. “I mean, it's kind of… stupid but I want to be this town's hero. You know, someone everyone can count on to help them. And the hunter too.”

“That's a really sweet idea,” LeFou said, smiling at him.

Gaston felt himself blush once more and covered it up by standing straighter and grinning. “Thank you!”

LeFou giggled and went back to fixing the snowman's arm.

“What about you, LeFou?,” Robert asked.

LeFou froze and Gaston noticed his cheeks turning pink. “Well, I… I don't know.”

“Yes, you do,” teased Gaston. “You can tell us. We won't make fun of you.”

The other boys agreed and waited for LeFou to speak. “Well, I,” he repeated, stammering and blushing, “I kind of just want to be by, hum… Gaston's side.”

Gaston suppressed an excited shout. “That's so sweet! We can be some kind of dynamic duo!”

LeFou smiled. He looked so flustered. Gaston's heart skipped a beat and he kneeled down to search for eyes for their snowman. Busy with his task, he could barely hear his friends talk and only when LeFou touched him did he look up.

“What?”

“Dick was asking you something.”

Gaston let out an “Oh” and got up. “Sorry,” he said, brushing off snow from his breeches. “What did you say?”

Dick nodded over to the tavern. Gaston followed it and his heart sunk when he noticed his mother outside the tavern. With a strange man. Gaston turned his head immediately. His hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe well.

“You know him?,” Dick asked.

“No. No, I don't. Can we… ignore it, please?”

Tom sighed and smoothed Gaston's hair. “Let the kid be.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. He liked Tom. Not in the same way he liked LeFou, by far, but he liked him. He always felt like some kind of older brother, always there for him when he needed him. And, once he lacked any kind of _good_ male role models, Gaston appreciated it beyond words.

“You want to go to my place?,” LeFou asked, giving up on the arm altogether. “It's warmer than here.”

“It's okay.” He didn't want to look weak in front of them. It was probably his worst fear; being weak. He still trembled and he felt like he was two seconds away from crying but he still encouraged everyone to get back to work. “If we just stand here, this snowman won't be finished by next winter.”

Everyone laughed a bit and went back to building the little man. Gaston scratched his nose, only to find it wet. Shit, had he been crying? He wiped his eyes to his sleeve quickly and went back to putting small pebbles on the snowman's chest. Instinctively, although discreetly, he looked over his shoulder to the tavern. His mother had left, as so had the strange man.

He felt a rage start to burn inside him. He clenched his hands, trying to control himself, not allowing himself to ruin all the hard work they had put on the snowman. He blinked and turned around again, meeting LeFou's gentle eyes. “Is it too late to go to your house?”

LeFou smiled at him and shook his head, curls bouncing. “Never.”

 

LeFou's house was decorated from ceiling to floor and Gaston watched as he lit up the lights by the Christmas tree. He took off his cloak and jacket, placing them over the couch. “So, that's your…”

“It's where the gifts go! Baby Jesus leaves us presents on Christmas.”

Gaston smiled and made a mental note to buy LeFou new clothes. That'd be a nice present. “That's sweet.”

“What do you get for…?”

“Hanukkah. It depends. But I usually get money from my parents,” he explained as he sat by the fireplace that LeFou rekindled. Gaston figured he needed some help and leaned over. The fire began to roar gently and Gaston sighed. The floor creaked as LeFou moved and then again when he sat down by Gaston, who frowned when he felt a soft fabric over his shoulder.

“It's a blanket. Last thing my Nana knitted.”

Gaston nodded and pulled his end closer. “I'm sorry about her.”

“It's okay. We all have to go some time.”

Gaston looked over at him and was overwhelmed with a sense of raw love. “LeFou.”

“Yes?”

“I like you. A lot.”

LeFou stared at him with those soft eyes before breaking into a grin. “I like you a lot too!”

Gaston smiled and shuffled closer. Tentatively, he put his hand on top of LeFou's.

“Woah, your hand is so warm.”

Gaston laughed and squeezed LeFou's hand which was absolutely freezing.

Yeah, that was normal friend behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: alright so santa claus wasn't probably a thing what's the next closest thing  
> me: ah yes, Baby Jesus :-)  
> im so sorry,


	5. 15

Gaston jolted out of his bed, the sun creeping into his bedroom. He ran to the bathroom and cleaned himself up, grinning at his reflection after. His hair was perfectly tied up and his clothes were perfectly folded on top of his bed and, within minutes, perfectly fitting him.

This day was perfect. It had to be.

It was Gaston's fifteenth birthday and he had been waiting for it his whole life — quite literally.

His mother laughed as he hugged her tight. He was already as tall as she was. “Your breakfast is at the table.”

“And I hope my gift is at the stables,” he said, sitting down and nearly chugging down his porridge.

“Slow down!”

“Sophie, there's someone at the door!,” his father called from the second floor.

Gaston swallowed the porridge and moved to his omelette as his mother left the kitchen. “It's for you, Gaston!”

He looked down at the unfinished snack and then at the door. With a shrug, he shoved all that was left in his mouth and chewed quickly as he walked to the door. Gaston wiped his mouth to his sleeve and smiled at the visitor. “LeFou, good morning.”

“Happy birthday,” he said, handing Gaston a brown box. “I made it myself, I hope it's not too bad.”

Gaston hummed and nodded for LeFou to come inside. They sat on the couch and Gaston gave him a smile before unwrapping the box and opening it carefully. Inside sat a small sculpture of a deer in dark brown wood. A buck, Gaston could tell by the small, crudely cut antlers. He picked it up with care and ran his fingertips over it. Turning it over, he noticed there was something carved by the buck’s belly. “I can't…” he trailed off, unable to admit to his friend he was illiterate.

“Oh, it says, um, G and L. Our, our initials,” he stammered, nervous.

“It's lovely.” He grinned at LeFou and kissed his cheek. “I love it.”

LeFou smiled sheepishly back and shrugged. “It's nothing big.”

“Shut up, it's adorable.” _Just like you_ , he added to himself. “You want to go with us? My parents are taking me to the stables today.”

“Oh?”

“They're giving me a horse!”

LeFou nodded. “That's really nice. I'd love to go.”

“Maman!” Gaston called and LeFou jumped a bit in his seat. “Can LeFou come with us?!”

“Ask your father!”

Gaston sighed and put the deer down. “Follow me,” he told LeFou, who did so without question. They walked upstairs and Gaston knocked on the locked bathroom door. “Father.”

“Just a minute,” the man called from the other side of the door, voice muffled. Before too long, the door opened to reveal a man almost as tall as the door itself, very muscular, and nearly identical to Gaston. “What is it that you want?”

“This is LeFou, I'm not sure if you've met him.”

“Your friend, yes, I know him.”

“He wants to—  _I_ want him to… come with us. To the stables.”

Gaston’s father stared down at LeFou, and Gaston's heart began hammering, himself breaking into a light sweat. “Why?” he finally spoke.

Gaston stuttered but LeFou interrupted him before he could speak. “I like to think of myself as your son's closest friend. I just want to accompany him, that's all.”

All Gaston could think was something along the lines of _Please don't be a brute, I know you're not a brute when you're sober_ over and over again.

“Alright,” he said, turning around.

Gaston let out a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind him. He turned to LeFou and grinned at him.

 

The stables were busy, every stall with a horse that the workers made sure had slept well and was well combed for their owners. By the end of it stood a beautiful, great black stallion. Gaston’s present.

“Pierre, my friend!” called the owner as he moved to pull Gaston's father into a hug. “Sophie, darling, this is no place for women.”

“I'll have you know I met my husband when riding,” she told him.

Gaston barely heard the rest, too enthralled with the beauty of his future horse. He could already see himself riding it into the woods to hunt.

“Come on, Gaston,” the tall man said as he nodded over to the horse. Gaston almost flew to it, LeFou barely catching up. “Would you like to pet him?”

“I'd like to ride him!”

“Well, you'll need a saddle for that, young man.”

“Then get me one!”

“Christ, you're just like your father,” he murmured before walking off to get a saddle and reins.

“I don't think you're like him,” LeFou told him.

“Oh, no, I am. It's alright, it's not like it can be helped.”

LeFou seemed worried but Gaston couldn't tell why. So he gave him a grin, full of what LeFou called “Gaston charm”, getting LeFou to smile at him.

“Let's take him outside,” the owner said as he walked over to them and placed the saddle over the horse.

Once behind the houses and buildings that formed Villeneuve, Gaston climbed onto the horse with ease. He was a natural, just like with everything else.

“Come on, lad, ride him.”

Gaston glanced over his parents and a very nervous LeFou, and gave the horse a small quick. He began trotting, and Gaston smiled, proud of himself. He encouraged him to go faster with a flick of the reins and suddenly the horse began galloping. Gaston let out a laugh, unable to control his happiness. He rode him for a bit longer and then stopped, in the same place he had started.

“Well? Maman, Papa?” the owner said. Gaston’s father gave him a nod and the owner grinned, showing off a couple missing teeth. “It's all yours, son! What're you naming it?”

Gaston hummed, running his hand over his mane. “Henri.”

“Henri? Now, that's a name I never heard.”

“It's my grandfather's name. He's in Lyon. Isn't he, father?”

“The old man is probably in his grave,” he replied.

Gaston noticed LeFou frowning at his father and smiled softly. “LeFou.” The frown dropped and he looked up. “Want to go for a ride?”

He blinked and then walked up to Gaston, who helped him climb. He now sat behind his friend, arms wrapped around his chest.

“Breathe, it's alright.”

“Okay… I just never rode before.”

Gaston turned his head and grinned at him. LeFou swooned and smiled, his cheeks turning bright pink. “Trust me.”

LeFou nodded and took a deep breath. Then Gaston kicked Henri into a gallop and LeFou's grip tightened.

They didn't get too far, just enough for them to still be able to see the adults, if a little blurry.

“I could get used to this,” LeFou said.

“Riding?”

“Being with you,” he murmured in reply, clearly embarrassed.

Gaston smiled and turned around the most he could. “Hey. There's no shame in being close friends.”

LeFou shrugged. "I just want to be with you. ...Forever, maybe," he added shyly.

And the need to kiss him overtook Gaston. But he didn't do it. Not yet. First, he had to go somewhere where they wouldn't be stared at. Turning around, he spurred Henri’s sides and the horse broke into a gallop.

“Gaston!” LeFou cried out, alarmed, as his arms wrapped around Gaston’s chest once more.

Gaston didn't reply, simply rode until they were by the river he camped by with his father in hunting trips. He stopped Henri and got off. “Don't move,” he told the horse and turned to help LeFou down. His hands trembled a bit and he was sure they were sweating. “I don't… want you to be alarmed or anything, so I'm just going to tell you what I'm going to do.”

“Okay.”

Gaston took a deep breath and wet his lips, wiping his hands to his breeches, before cupping LeFou's face with his hands. “I'm going to kiss you. You can say no if you want me to stop.”

“Okay,” he breathed.

Gaston looked for any signs of uncomfortableness and, when he found none, leant in. Their noses bumped awkwardly when he kissed him. Gaston, smiling, turned his head to the side slightly. _There_. No noses bumping, just soft lips pressed against each other as LeFou's shaking hands moved to Gaston’s sides.

Gaston opened his eyes slightly, enough to see LeFou’s red cheeks and his eyebrows twitching. He smiled, closed his eyes, and withdrew, letting his hands fall. LeFou withdrew his and sighed. He smiled at Gaston.

“So… Boys can't fancy boys?” he asked, mocking Gaston.

“Oh, this isn't… I don't fancy you. We're just friends. Best friends.”

LeFou looked at him, confused. “Okay. If you say so," he said with a smile.

“We better get back now. Before they wonder where we went,” Gaston told him as he climbed on top of Henri once more. With help, LeFou joined him.


	6. 15

It was a Summer morning and everyone seemed to be very cheerful. Gaston knew he was. Summer was, put quite simply, his favorite season. There was more game to be hunt, the days were longer, and this year he was finally welcome at his father's tavern for one or two beers. He even got them to serve LeFou once, despite him only being fourteen — his birthday wasn't until Fall.

The night before he had finally drunk over three beers, and finally understood why his father loved it so much. It made him happy. Gaston, at least. And it made him ignore the fact he had come home, tipsy, to his mother and a man who looked too much like Tom’s father on the couch.

He now shook his head to get rid of that blurry memory and blinked repeatedly to shake off sleep. He sat on Henri's back, watching Villeneuve from the promontory, waiting for LeFou.

It'd be his first hunting trip by himself and, of course, he couldn't _not_ bring LeFou with him.

He turned Henri around and smiled at his friend who rode the pony Gaston had given him ( _It's like an early birthday gift_ , he had said.) with sleep written all over him. His lashes were heavy and he yawned and rubbed his eyes.

“LeFou!” he called, making him jump and look around disoriented. He smiled when he noticed Gaston move towards him. “Come on, now, don't tell me you're already tired!”

“I went to sleep at three in the morning because of you, I most definitely am tired,” he joked.

“Well, I didn't ask you to bring me home, now did I?”

“No, but you're my friend and I know you. You'd probably get yourself into some mess. Or sleep at the stables.”

Gaston snorted a laugh and smiled. “Yes, I suppose you're right.”

“When aren't I?” LeFou asked him with a yawn. “No but seriously, I do need to take a nap,” he added, rubbing his eye.

“Very well. As soon as we get our camp ready, you can sleep in the tent.”

“And you?”

Gaston shrugged. “I'll find a way to entertain myself.”

“ _So_ , you'll nap too?”

Gaston nodded with a smile.

 

They woke up by lunchtime, or at least Gaston did once the air already smelled of vegetables boiling. He tied his hair back the best he could and rubbed the sleep off his eyes before heading out. LeFou was indeed taking care of lunch, very attentive to it. “Good morning!” he greeted, sitting on the log LeFou had dragged close to their small fire.

LeFou smiled at him. “It's two in afternoon, actually.”

Gaston hummed and leaned in, peering their lunch. “Vegetable stew?”

LeFou nodded with a shrug. “Couldn't think of anything else.”

“I'm sure it'll do.”

They sipped it from ceramic bowls LeFou had brought; LeFou blowing on it to make sure it wouldn't burn his tongue and Gaston simply chugging it down without exactly caring about any of that, barely chewing it. He licked his lips and sighed, satisfied.

“You're a good cook.”

LeFou, clearly flustered, shrugged and hid a smile.

“You _are_.”

His smile turned into a grin and Gaston smiled back, tongue darting over his teeth checking for leftovers. Finding none, he got up and cracked his back, and then his knuckles. “I'm going to load the guns and check the quiver.”

LeFou nodded, still halfway through lunch. Within half an hour, he was done and everything was ready for them to go further into the forest to hunt. Not that LeFou did really anything except hold Gaston's gun and follow him.

When Gaston hunted he was everything he was usually not. He was slow, cautious and all his steps were premeditated. He took care to watch if he stepped on something and then aimed carefully at the liver of the young buck that ate about twenty feet away from them, hidden amongst tall grass and bushes. Gaston checked the arrow in his crossbow and then looked over at the animal. Then he shot.

The creature fell to the ground and thrashed around, its thin and long legs wriggling. Gaston handed the crossbow to LeFou and walked up to the buck in an almost predatory way. “Gaston?”

He shushed his friend. “I suggest you look away now,” he said, withdrawing his hunting dagger — a birthday present from Tom, Dick and Stanley — from his belt. He grabbed the animal's antlers and pulled its head back, exposing the neck. He placed the blade against it and dragged it, blood spurting and falling half on Gaston and his clothes and half on the bright green grass. The buck choked on its blood and Gaston heard a soft gasp from LeFou. He put the buck’s head down slowly and wiped the hunting dagger's blade to the fur. He cringed when he looked down at his shirt. It was absolutely bloodied. “When my father does it, he doesn't get one drop of blood on himself.” He looked over at LeFou, who looked pale and as if about to cry. “LeFou?”

He stammered, “I didn't, I didn't know that's how… how you hunted. Christ.”

“You'll get used to it, it's alright. I was shocked at first too,” he reassured him.

LeFou took a deep breath and nodded, looking down at Gaston’s crossbow. He was silent as Gaston hunted a couple of ducks and a rabbit for LeFou.

“LeFou,” Gaston called, once he was done strapping the buck to his saddle.

“Yeah?”

He frowned and sat by the fire, hand in LeFou's hair. “Are you feeling alright?”

LeFou sighed and leaned against Gaston’s touch. “I'm just… sorry I reacted like that. You know, in disgust.”

Gaston smiled at him, still petting him. “It's no reason to apologize.”

“I mean, probably not but… I know you were expecting a more manly reaction. I bet neither of your friends reacted like that.”

“LeFou, there's nothing unmanly about being disgusted by killing. And neither of my other friends have come with me to hunt.”

LeFou sighed again. “You really don't mind?”

“Of course not, my friend. After all, just like I told you, I reacted like that too at first. You'll get used to it.”

LeFou nodded and Gaston finally put his hand down. Ever since his birthday he felt like there was some kind of tension between them. He ignored it, of course, he was a hunter with his father now and he had to worry about _that_. But now with everyone else gone, and the sun beginning to set behind them, and LeFou looking at him with those eyes that hadn't lost their softness, he couldn't help but lean in slowly. When he kissed him, LeFou didn't move. Didn't kiss him back, barely even breathed. And then, slowly, he put his hand to Gaston's arm, kissing him back with that familiar gentleness. “Are we lovers?” he asked once Gaston pulled back and put his forehead against LeFou's.

Gaston opened his eyes and heaved a sigh. “I don't know,” he said, looking up at him. “Can men be lovers?”

LeFou blinked at him and hummed. Then nodded with conviction. “I think so, yes.”

Gaston nodded. “Then perhaps we are.” The smile in LeFou's face — wide, full of joy and hope — was angelical. LeFou himself, Gaston thought, was angelical. “Still,” he added, for this was Gaston and he was too afraid to be seen as anything but the epitome of manliness by his peers, “we shouldn't concern ourselves with names for this… relationship.”

Sadness flashed over LeFou's features but he nodded in reply. Gaston smiled at him and kissed him again, this time on his forehead. “We're still friends, correct?”

Gaston’s smile turned into a grin and he let out a soft laugh. “Yes, LeFou. That's the one thing we'll always be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one has come to an end but i'll be back w a part two!


End file.
